


A Little Curiosity

by Plankto



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV), Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 13:37:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20818157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plankto/pseuds/Plankto
Summary: A sequel to "The Case of a Cut Newspaper". Hercule Poirot has a little curiosity, regarding his romantic partner, Arthur Hastings.A story, that was build around a drawing, that I made recently. Hope you enjoy!French translation in the end notes.





	A Little Curiosity

I was feeling very content. I was lying comfortably in Poirot’s lap, both of us taking some well-deserved rest. Yesterday we managed to close a completely unexpected, dangerous case, which has started with a very mundane activity: Poirot reading some absurd case requests out loud. As with every case, that he took, it ended up as far removed from ‘boring’ and ‘simple’ as possible. We found ourselves driving from one porcelain manufacturer to another, made a business transaction with a little girl, who allowed us to inspect her grandmother’s china under the condition, that she will serve us tea in it. And all of this happened before we even managed to get to the meat of the case!

Poirot was very satisfied with the conclusion of our investigation, his little grey cells have ‘finally got the much needed exercise after the last couple of weeks of business stagnation. As for me, I was happy to finally be back in Poirot’s apartment, drinking tea from our mundane and completely usual porcelain. And, of course, I was happy to be so close to Poirot.

Good Lord! A few days ago it all seemed impossible. I wouldn’t even dare to dream about such scenarios: me, laying on the sofa, my head resting in Poirot’s lap and the man himself smiling down at me. His skilled fingers were gently brushing through my hair and I loved it. And I loved Poirot. I have finally managed to confess this to the man himself. He responded with the most touching ‘je t’aime’1, that I have ever heard. After we came back home, Poirot have requested that I read him my anonymous letter once again. I was less shy, reading it for the second time since I already knew, that my feelings for my magnificent friend were mutual…

I stretched and yawned, feeling that life has blessed me with something one of a kind.

“Still feeling sleepy, mon amour2?” Poirot murmured softly. “You slept almost until noon!”

“Cut me a break! So much has been happening in the span of the last few days, that I am allowed to take some well deserved rest. And so are you!”

“Oui, mon cher3 and I am doing so right now. I do not intend to lift myself from the sofa any time soon.

I sighed at his fingertips scratching the back of my head in an almost heavenly way. I tilted my head slightly backwards in order to take a better look at Poirot. He looked stunning – as always. I felt incredibly flattered as I realized, that today, he has dressed in his carefully chosen outfit only for me to admire. We didn’t intend on going outside today so Poirot was mine and mine alone to cherish. Ah, how much did I yearn to strip these perfect layers of clothing off of him. I mean, he looked gorgeous in them. But I knew he would look equally, if not even more, stunning without them…

“What is it, mon adoré4?” He asked innocently, with that green gleam in his eyes. “Have you not wake up properly yet? You keep looking at me with those clouded eyes.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure myself.” I gave a little smile.

“Pourquoi5?”

“Thinking back to the events from before we left home for the investigation, I’m not so sure if it all really happened or am I just dreaming?”

Poirot gave me a warm smile, moving his hand from the back of my head towards my face. He stroke my cheek gently.

“My confession to you, it is not a dream. Poirot, he is truly and hopelessly infatuated with you, my dearest Arthur.” He murmured in a low voice.

I nuzzled my cheek into the back of his hand like a cat, which earned me a chuckle from a man, who I could now call my own.

“I’m so happy, that I’m not sure what to say, darling. So all I will say is this” I hope we won’t ever have to leave this room so that we can cuddly like this forever.”

“Cuddle?” He picked up a non-formal word, that was unfamiliar to him.

“It means ‘to hug each other’.”

“Ah, I see. Then we shall do just that, mon cher. Although… I am not sure if this is what my handsome captain had exactly in mind. Even though he told me the definition of the word, perhaps he has a definition of his own regarding the activity of cuddling.” He tilted his head to the side and gave me that sly smile. Oh he knew me too well.

“You say? Perhaps I d o h a v e my own definition of cuddling. I have many secrets, that even you still don’t know of.” I teased. “There is but one way to find out.”

“Mon Dieu6, Hastings, you abash me!” He stated with fake shyness. His eyes had a hungry, cat like gleam to them.

“Do I really?” I nuzzled my cheek into his hand once more. “One would think, that it’s almost impossible to intimidate the world’s greatest detective.”

I purposely tickled his vanity. I was watching the effects of my praise with a cocky grin.

“Well, you are correct, mon ami7 however my dashing, brave officer can instigate such feelings in Poirot.”

“So… are you backing up from the challenge?”

“That I did not say. Resigning is not in my nature, as you are well aware at this point. I shall strip you of your secrets if, of course they are the kind that is meant to be laid bare.” His tone became low, tinted with arousal.

I whistled. Blood rushed to my head.

“My my! Well, that’s the Poirot who I know and love. Can you really do it, though? Let me remind you, that I have already surprised you once before!” Despite the fact, that Poirot pieced together the mystery behind the mysterious letter rather quickly, I was still proud of my idea.

“Not once; you are full of surprises mon amour.” He corrected me. His praises were like candy to me: sweet and addictive. He was well aware of that. “Can I do it? Naturellement!8 I do not intend to leave you with just empty words so how about I give you a little demonstration of my skill?”

He brushed my neck with his thumb, as if urging me to answer. I trembled, chuckling a little – it tickled.

“O-of course! Be my guest!” That was my second mistake, but I did not know it yet. My first one was ranting too much about little details, that could easily be used against me.

“Bien!9 You see, mon amour, I have this little curiosity. Your neck - you are always reluctant to let me touch it. Obviously, I am well aware, that you are not opposed to being touched by me, on the contrary. Even before our relationship has entered the stage of romance, you did not mind me, for example, fixing your clothes. You did, however, move away slightly whenever I happened to brush your neck by accident. I wonder why that it?" As he was explaining, he kept drawing circles against the skin of my neck in a supposedly absent-minded manner. Something was telling me, that it wasn’t absent-minded at all…

I kept my eyes shut tight, trying to stop myself from laughing. I could feel myself trembling. What on earth was he thinking?

Meanwhile, Poirot continued:

“You have told me before, that you can rarely wear sweaters and turtlenecks, because they ‘make your skin tingle’. I was simply wondering what is this ‘tingling’ exactly?”

I had finally realized, too late of course, what he was getting at. By that point I was too overpowered by the tickling sensations to move! That cunning man – and I even encouraged him myself!”

It seemed that he has finally glanced down at me, because he exclaimed, with faked surprise:

“Mon Dieu, Hastings! It is happening again! And Poirot, he finally knows what it is.”

“O-of coh-ohoho-urse you-huhu do!” I snorted. “Stahahahp it!” I didn’t sound very convincing while I was giggling.

“Ah, what was it that you call it in your language, eh?”

“T-tickli-hihihi-sh!”

“Ah yes, that’s right, ticklish. You, mon adoré, are very ticklish and I do find it endearing!” He stated, very satisfied and doubled his efforts, now scratching my neck all over with his fingertips. I couldn’t hold it in any longer: I started to laugh.

“Stohohop it!”

“I always find myself captivated by your laughter, mon cher. It is loud and strong like a golden bell. So honest and pure. It is always as if you were pouring your heart out whenever you laugh for all the world to hear and get affected by it, for it is so contagious.”

He kept tickling under my chin while he was speaking. Then, he switched to the crook of my neck. His nimble fingers dragged over the pulse on my neck a few times lazily and afterwards, he was back to tickling my neck up and down again. He was probing me, testing which part of my neck was the most ticklish.

“P-Poirohohot!” I begged with tears forming in my eyes and he finally cased his sweet torture.

It took me a few moments to catch my breath. When I finally looked up at him, Hercule had the most enamored expression, that I have seen since that time we both confessed. He bowed down and whispered lowly into my ear:

“je t’aime, mon plus cher ami.10”

Rather than responding with words, I had chosen to respond with actions. I pushed myself to my elbows and stole a kiss from those tempting lips. They were mine to kiss now. He responded enthusiastically.

“And with that, the first secret has been revealed and Poirot finds it appropriate to end his little investigation… for now.” He added with playful glimmers in his eyes. “My curiosity, you see, has not been completely seated yet.” He purred, making me tremble.

“I will get you back for this!” I threatened half-heartedly. “We’ll see who will be the last one laughing then!”

Poirot chuckled.

“You are most welcomed to try, my Dear Ticklish Friend!”

“You will never let me hear the end of it now, huh?” I shook my head with a smile. I didn’t mind it all that much, certainly not when it was accompanied by him showering me with praise.

“Non!11 Your laughter is so mesmerizing, that it would be impossible for me to resist.” To emphasize his point, he started to kiss my neck. I snorted and laughted in response, but I wouldn’t dare to stop his warm lips from exploring my skin.

Finally, he stopped, redirecting his caress to my lips instead. This time the kiss iwas more heated. We spent the rest of the day like this: holding each other and exchanging kisses. I couldn’t wish for anything more. I will always cherish those rare days of peace between cases, where there was just me and Poirot, and the passion of the spring hour of our love.

~FIN

**Author's Note:**

> DICTIONARY:  
1\. “I love you”  
2\. “My love”  
3\. “Yes, my dear”  
4\. “My adored/my love”  
5\. “Why?”  
6\. “My God!”  
7\. “My friend”  
8\. “Naturally!/Of course!”  
9.”Good!”here: “All right!”  
10\. “I love you, my dearest friend.”  
11\. “No!”


End file.
